


If the Rain Could Sing

by hiza-chan (callunavulgari)



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-30
Updated: 2012-04-30
Packaged: 2017-11-04 14:52:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/395080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/hiza-chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Sokka wonders if Zuko is using him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If the Rain Could Sing

**Author's Note:**

> Old fic is old. Don't judge me. I don't remember what exactly the prompts were from originally, but they were swords, courage, pain, tears, sister, again, bend, boys, and girls. And uh, I think I covered all of them.

Sometimes, he wonders if Zuko is using him. Zuko has never actually shown any real interest in Katara beyond using her to get to Aang, of course, but all the same, he wonders. He wonders if sometimes he’s just imagining the little looks that the Fire Nation Prince throws at his sister, the little glimmers of unspoken interest in his dark eyes.  
  
Of course, he’s Lord now, not a meagre prince. Lord of the Fire Nation, the same Zuko who chased them around for months trying to catch the last airbender so he could restore his wounded pride. And now he is Lord of a Kingdom, and his responsibilities run high.  
  
They still meet together, for little get-togethers and talk of nostalgia and what were most certainly not better days. One of those meetings had actually been responsible for whatever he and Zuko have going now. Katara had been laughing, and talking about something or another, that boy in the forest they had once befriended, perhaps, and Zuko had gotten to his feet and smiled at them, making some excuse of needing fresh air. His eyes had been too dark, he remembers. He had looked like he was in pain, and Sokka had wondered.  
  
So he had followed the Fire Lord out into the rain, and felt very foolish dodging behind trees and pillars as he did so. Zuko had not gone far, just to the other side of a courtyard nearby. He’d leaned against a pillar, and his whole body had sagged against it, his robes soaked and clinging to his skin. He had looked tired, and for a moment Sokka had wondered if perhaps his comrade was crying.  
  
To this day Sokka isn’t exactly sure what alerted Zuko to his presence. Knowing his luck he’d probably trod on some out of place stick or moved too loudly. All the same, Zuko had been before him in moments with a hand wrapped around his neck and flames licking their way up his arm.  
  
Sokka remembers how Zuko had looked in the fires glow, with rain dripping down his cheeks and his eyes fierce with anger. It had been terrifying, and he could almost hear the crackle of the flames, the nervous pitter patter of his heart. In that moment, he’d realized just how powerful his friend really was, how dangerous.  
  
Sokka saw it in Zuko’s eyes when he’d realized just who he had by the throat, and he can remember in perfect clarity the smirk that had stretched across those lips and the way the hand clutching his neck had tightened fractionally.  
  
He’d never been so scared or so incredibly turned on in his entire life. Certainly not at the same time.  
  
Zuko had just smiled at his fear, and leant forward-  
  
The kiss had been very wet. The wooden pillar he’d been pinned against had been a solid presence at his back while Zuko licked and nipped at his jaw, and he’d arched against the other man, unsure of whether he wanted to run away or press himself further into the Fire Lord’s touch. His breathing was coming in harsh pants, and Zuko’s hand against his neck was both arousing and obstructing. When Zuko’s hand crept down his pants, he’d given in, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck at the same time that the hand left his throat.  
  
They’d rocked together in the rain, laughing at the absurdity of it, and catching their moans in the other’s mouth.  
  
And that had just been the start of it.  
  
It almost seemed sad that the Fire Lord would have a meagre peasant as his lover, not to mention one that couldn’t even bend. He likes to imagine what it would be like to bend with Zuko, his water and Zuko’s fire twisting together the way he’d seen when Zuko trained with Katara and Aang.  
  
The months had passed with memories of slick skin beneath silken sheets, forbidden trysts in courtyards, and steel clashing against steel.  
  
However, the good times could never last forever. As Emperor, Zuko has many duties to perform. He must please his people, and the time comes that he is urged to pick his queen. For a long time, Sokka is unsure of how to feel. He feels it would be selfish of him to tell his lover not to give the people a queen. So he waits, ignoring the questioning glances that Zuko throws his way whenever the subject comes up. Eventually, the nights spent with Zuko begin to dwindle in number, until they finally stop entirely. He spends more time than ever with the Water Nation, trying not to think of fire or it’s Lord.  
  
No one is more surprised than he when Katara and Zuko announce their engagement. Aang congratulates the two, smiling at Katara in a way that Sokka somehow understands. He recognizes the signs of someone coming apart at the seams yet being unable to show their inner turmoil.  
  
Zuko’s eyes never leave his as Katara is telling them the news, her face radiant with happiness. He fights down bile and doesn’t meet the Fire Lord’s gaze. His sister looks at him with a fierce kind of happiness in her eyes and he smiles at her. Only then does he turn the same smile on Zuko. He is smiling through his tears when he tells them that he hopes they make very pretty babies.  
  
He is pleased at the flinch he gets for his words.  
  
-  
  
Katara looks beautiful on her wedding day. Clothed in a pale blue that brings out her eyes, she looks perfectly lovely next to her prince. He feels a bit sick when Katara asks him to be the best man, but stands next to Zuko at the end of the aisle anyway. She is his sister, and they do say that blood is thicker than water. Though in the end, he guesses, blood is just another kind of water. I  
  
n the time spent waiting for Katara to emerge, Sokka can feel Zuko’s gaze on him. He is almost certain that Zuko is watching closely enough to see him tremble. He stands there and shakes as Katara walks down the aisle, clutching their father’s arm with tears in her eyes, and when his sister notices his trembling she smiles and throws her arms around him. She thinks he is trembling for her.  
  
He quietly slips out of the palace doors before it is time for the kiss.  
  
No one notices.  
  
-  
  
After that, he doesn’t see Zuko for years. Katara sends him invitations every few months, and he turns down all of them. He hears rumors of them though, of the Fire Lord and his water tribe lover. He flinches every time he hears Zuko’s name, and wonders why the other man matters so much to him. Let his sister be happy, let her have her ever after.  
  
He tries to make it work with Tsuki for a long time. The sex is rather fabulous, even if it is a shadow compared to how it had always been with Zuko. They look like a couple to the eyes of the people, but she eventually gets fed up and leaves him. He has other lovers, mostly nameless girls when he’s had too much sake. A year and a half after Katara and Zuko’s wedding, he meets a pretty boy with dark hair and dark eyes. There is a miniscule spark there, and Sokka wonders about it. He tries his hand at seduction, and is almost surprised when they stumble, drunk and tangled around each other, into his room.  
  
It is only when he is lying sated and almost happy against the strangers chest that he realizes that the other man is a firebender. He leaves the next morning, tiptoeing out the door and pretending that he doesn’t realize that the other man is watching him leave through sleep hooded eyes.  
  
-  
  
In the end, it is Aang who gets him to visit his sister. His friend corners him after he emerges from the local tavern and shakes him, his eyes furious and his mouth set in an unhappy line. They have words, most of which Sokka doesn’t entirely remember. At the time, he'd been more concerned with trying to retain his balance.  
  
The ride to the fire nation is quiet, the silence only broken by little soothing murmurs that Aang coos into Appa’s ear. He tries not to panic when he sees the nation rising before them. When he gives in, whimpering to Aang that he’d changed his mind, the boy glares at him and urges Appa faster.  
  
His sister is still as radiant as she was four years ago and she bursts into happy tears when she sees him. Wary, he approaches her, mildly comforted by the fact that Zuko is nowhere in sight. When he gets close enough, he touches one hand to her cheek. It comes away wet. She slaps him, hard, and for a moment he is terrified that she might know. The terror passes when she collapses against his chest, sobbing about how very much she’d missed him.  
  
They spend the day with Aang, curled up in one of the many palace rooms. He laughs with them, and almost feels like a kid again.  
  
The happiness fades when Zuko strides into the room, his robes draped artfully around him and a smile on his face. He greets Aang first, grinning and ruffling the mop of newly grown hair on the other man’s head. Then he greets Katara, smiling at her and throwing her into the air. His smile is so heartfelt that all the courage Sokka had worked up drains away in moments.  
  
Zuko hasn’t seen him yet, perhaps he can slip out of the room unnoticed… But even as he thinks it, Zuko sees him. The Fire Lord’s eyes widen, and he wonders just what Zuko sees. Some shadow of his former lover, maybe. Sokka’s hair is long and unkempt, and hangs down his back in a ponytail that is almost a parody of Katara’s when she was young. Though he’d shaved before he and Aang had left, he knew that he had the beginnings of some serious stubble. The patches of grey beneath his eyes stand out with stark clarity and seem to highlight the sharp cut of his cheek bones. He looks dreadful, and he knows it. Katara had told him so.  
  
He stays seated, and tries to keep his thoughts together long enough to smile.  
  
The tension in the room only grows, and he can almost feel Aangs regret for having brought him here. After they have dinner, he excuses himself with the excuse of wanting some sleep. It is not entirely a lie, he is quite tired.  
  
Sleep will not find him though, so he walks through quiet halls and thinks of better times. He comes to a stop before the courtyard. The same courtyard from half a decade ago, and the rain still looks the same trickling down the pillars. He pads down the steps and crouches in the middle of it, his upturned face catching droplets of water. He doesn’t care.  
  
He leaves the next day without saying a word to his sister or Aang.  
  
-  
  
Some years later, he gets word of an assassination attempt made on the Fire Lord. His heart jumps in his chest, and the barkeep is startled when he jumps to his feet, demanding details.  
  
He isn’t sure if the news he gets brings him more sorrow or relief. The attempt had failed, but in a last ditch effort the terrorist had lashed out at the ones likely to cause the most grief. The Fire Lord was unharmed, but his bride and four year old daughter were but cinders by the time they put the flames out.  
  
He sinks back into his chair, completely numb.  
  
It is Toph who comes to collect him this time, and it is a relief to hear her voice after so long. By the time they make it to fire country, the funeral is already underway and he is furious that they didn’t wait for him. His own sister, you would think they’d have the decency to wait for her brother to get there.  
  
After the funeral, he stands in the courtyard and watches the rain.  
  
By the time he hears footsteps behind him the moon has risen, and it is bright in the sky. A full moon. If the assassin had waited, perhaps Katara would still be alive.  
  
The steel of Zuko’s sword is cold against his throat, and he presses into it, smiling up at the night sky when it bites into his skin. Zuko’s body is a furnace at his back, pressing up against him, trapping him between steel and a warm wall of flesh.  
  
Zuko hisses curses into his ear, words of pain and sorrow. Sokka bears it all, standing against the onslaught of curses until the words dissolve into tears. Zuko shakes against him, and he wishes more than ever that he could bend, because he longs to make those tears dance like Katara used to.  
  
But nothing magical happens, no sudden ability to bend. He is just Sokka, plain and ordinary Sokka, trying to help in any way that he can. So when Zuko grinds against him, his cock hard in the cleft of Sokka’s ass, Sokka lets him. He lets Zuko bend him over in the courtyard until he is left kneeling and unhappy in the mud, lets him pull at the laces of his breeches. He lets Zuko fuck him in the middle of the courtyard that started it all with rain pounding down on them and the moon smiling mockingly above.  
  
He lets him do it, and he knows that he is being used.  
  
He doesn’t care.


End file.
